Chapter 622 - 8.2!

The office had grown quieter as the afternoon wore on.

Most of the staff had already packed their bags for the weekend, leaving only a few occupied desks and the low hum of the ventilation system.

Sofia sat with her phone in one hand, barely paying attention to the document open on her monitor.

The screen in front of her had long since stopped holding her interest.

Her attention was fixed on the live score displayed on her phone instead.

Burnley 0–1 Wigan Athletic.

The clock was ticking towards the final whistle.

Wigan had found their goal late in the second half, and now, with every passing minute, Sofia found herself checking the time more frequently than she cared to admit.

She watched the little match indicator move along the timeline, her thumb resting against the edge of her phone.

She had no particular reason to be this nervous.

It wasn’t as though she could do anything from her office, and she had followed enough football over the past few months to know that a one-goal lead could disappear in seconds.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to put the phone down.

"I didn’t know you liked football."

Sofia blinked and lifted her head at the sudden voice.

One of her senior colleagues stood beside her desk, a leather laptop bag hanging from his shoulder.

He glanced at the phone in her hand before looking back at her, apparently amused by the discovery.

She gave him a slightly sheepish smile.

"I didn’t, really. Not at first."

"Really?"

"Mm."

She turned the phone slightly in her hand, checking the score once more before looking back at him.

"I’ve just found myself keeping up with it lately. Making sure I know what’s going on with the team I support."

Her colleague raised his eyebrows.

"That’s quite a change with you, who never has any time."

Sofia let out a small laugh.

"Apparently."

"Oh," his expression shifted as a thought occurred to him.

"Is it because of a boyfriend?"

At that, her eyebrows rose.

The man caught her expression almost immediately and cleared his throat.

"Sorry. That was a bit presumptuous."

’

"A bit," she agreed, though there was enough amusement in her voice to reassure him that she wasn’t offended.

"But it’s fine."

He adjusted the strap of his bag, seemingly eager to move past the awkwardness.

"Anyway, a few of us are going for drinks. It’s Friday, after all. You should come along if you’re free."

"I can’t today, I’m afraid."

Sofia turned back towards her monitor, where the unfinished document was still waiting for her.

"I’ve got something to sort out with my niece. If I don’t get home soon, I’ll probably hear about it for the rest of the evening."

"Ah, family business." He nodded. "Fair enough. I’ll leave you to finish up, then. Have a good weekend."

"You too."

She watched him walk towards the lifts before turning back to her desk.

As soon as he was out of sight, she let out a long breath and dropped her shoulders.

"Honestly..." she said, a bit irritated.

She had forgotten how easily a harmless conversation could turn into speculation about her private life.

As she sat with her thoughts, her phone vibrated lightly in her hand.

Sofia looked down, and the score remained Burnley 0–1 Wigan Athletic, but the match status had changed to full time.

She stared at it for a moment, then let out a quiet breath of relief.

Wigan had held on.

Three points, another win, and one more reason for their supporters to enjoy the weekend.

When she opened the match report, the app brought up the player ratings, and Leo Calderon’s face appeared among the results.

Beside his name sat an 8.2 rating, with an assist credited to him for the goal that had decided the match.

Sofia’s mouth curved into a smile.

"Of course he’d managed to get himself involved again," she muttered, studying the picture for another second.

Then she lowered her gaze while her smile softened.

"I wish you could see this, sis."

She held the phone for a little longer before locking the screen and placing it beside her keyboard.

She still had work to finish, and she had already stayed later than she’d intended.

If she wanted to get home before Mia started interrogating her, she’d better make a move.

Her niece had developed an irritating habit lately.

Whenever Sofia came home later than usual, Mia would greet her with some variation of the same question: So, have you got a boyfriend yet?

The girl had become particularly insufferable ever since boys started trying to date her.

And also, ever since Leo and Vittoria’s relationship progressed.

According to Mia, her brother looked like the sort of person who would spend his entire life avoiding relationships, yet somehow he had managed to find someone before Sofia had.

Sofia still couldn’t decide whether to be offended on her own behalf or impressed by her niece’s commitment to the argument.

"That girl needs another hobby," she muttered.

She gathered the few papers scattered across her desk, saved her work and shut down her computer.

Just before slipping her phone into her bag, she looked at the match report again.

After a moment’s hesitation, she tapped into her messages and found the conversation she wanted.

Her thumb hovered briefly over the keyboard before she typed.

Congratulations on the win.

She read it once, decided it sounded perfectly normal, and sent it.

Then she put the phone away, switched off her desk lamp and headed for the lifts.

....

About 40km away, the Wigan players were making their way towards the team coach outside Turf Moor.

Dawson stood beside the coach door, waiting for the remaining players to arrive as some were locked in short conversations with the reporters along the way.

He had already spoken to the media himself.

The win had been harder than he’d wanted, but he wasn’t going to complain about taking all three points away from Burnley.

His side had worked for the breakthrough, and they’d defended their lead when it mattered.

A little further down the path, Leo was still talking to a couple of reporters who seemed content to answer their questions.

Dawson watched for a moment before his phone pinged.

He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

Congratulations on the win.

A short snort escaped him as he looked at the message again, then began typing with one thumb.

I guess I have your nephew to thank for that.

He stared at the message for a moment, but realising a reply wasn’t coming any time soon, he slipped the phone back into his pocket.

Dawson looked up just as Leo finished his conversation and started towards the coach.

The young midfielder had his hands in his pockets, his expression relaxed now that the match was over.

He slowed as he approached before giving Dawson a brief once-over.

"What’s wrong with your face?"

Dawson stared at him.

"My face?"

"Yeah."

Leo tilted his head slightly, as though trying to work out what he was seeing.

"You look a bit funny."

Dawson instinctively touched his cheek, then frowned when he realised what Leo was doing.

"Oh, very funny."

Leo grinned and stepped past him towards the coach.

"Let’s have a good evening, boss."

"Get on the bus."

"Already going."

Dawson watched him disappear through the door, then chuckled.

"That kid..."

He gave the side of the coach a light pat before climbing aboard himself.

By the time the last few players had settled into their seats, the driver had started the engine.

The doors folded shut, and the coach pulled away from Turf Moor, joining the traffic as Wigan began the journey back towards home.